


Blowing Kisses

by missazrael



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Modern AU, Sex, football au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-11-26 16:35:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20933336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missazrael/pseuds/missazrael
Summary: It's an October football game at the university, and Reiner just blew Porco a kiss.  Porco doesn't appreciate that and takes matters into his own hands.





	Blowing Kisses

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on Alina's beautiful work for Smoochtober. You can see it [here](https://twitter.com/alinajames/status/1179955010299453442) or [here](https://alinajames.tumblr.com/image/188119261621), depending on your Twitter/Tumblr preference.

The October air is crisp and chill against Reiner’s skin, the overhead lights for the field glaring and bright, as Porco’s hand closes around his wrist and yanks it down away from his mouth.

“What are you _doing_?” It comes out in a hiss, Porco’s teeth clenched, his eyes narrowed and flashing like a cat’s, and Reiner realizes that he may have stepped out of line.

“What?” Better to just play dumb, even as the crowd in the stands—mostly drunk by now, bundled against the cold and cheerfully rooting for their losing home team—set up a loud, obnoxious _oooooooh!_, more entertained by the activities on the sidelines than the sad antics on the field.

“You can’t do that!” Porco’s hand is still encircling Reiner’s wrist, his grip more powerful than people expect it to be, and he glances at the crowd, who _oooh_ again and wave at him. “Look what they’re doing!”

“They’re happy.” Happy for the distraction, for some drama between football players that doesn’t involve losing yet another game. It’s a liberal arts school, no one expects an amazing team, and these games are mostly a chance to get blasted and socialize, even occasionally cheering for the football team. Reiner doesn’t mind it; he could’ve played for a better university, but football has always been for fun, nothing more, and he’d rather focus on his degree than on bashing his brains out for some Top Ten school.

“Happy because of what you did!” Porco’s hair is wet with sweat, falling forward to frame his face, and Reiner is only a little bit distracted by it. Only the tiniest bit distracted, and when he reaches up to brush it back, Porco swats his hand back down. “Stop it!”

“You know no one cares, right?” It wasn’t like Reiner groped Porco’s ass or pulled his dick out or anything; he just blew him a kiss when Porco trooped off the field after a good play. It’s not like a liberal arts school, tucked away in the woods in the Northeast, hasn’t seen a gay guy blow a kiss to another guy before.

Porco flushes and looks away, and Reiner softens. Porco Galliard, freshman, from Texas, only a few months out of the closet and still skittish, still expecting to get chased or threatened with violence every time a drunk student gets too close to him. And Reiner, a junior, older and out since his fourteen birthday, out and proud since coming to college three years ago and getting away from the Chicago projects, huge and intimidating and able to give as good as he gets. Not that anyone ever tries to get him here, not where everyone is left-leaning and open-minded and more interested in getting laid themselves than who other people are laying, but Reiner can understand Porco’s fear. He’d had that himself, once, before his growth spurt, before college, before realizing that yeah, it _does_ get better.

“Hey.” Reiner takes a step closer, turning his shoulder towards the crowd so all they can see is his back and the 104 stretched across his shoulders. “Hey, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.”

Porco looks back up at him, and the disgust and fear and anxiety warring in his eyes breaks Reiner’s heart. He wishes he could make it easier for Porco, he really does, but he knows this is a path Porco needs to walk on his own.

“Whatever,” Porco mutters, and his grip on Reiner’s wrist, which had been starting to loosen, suddenly tightens down again as he glances around Reiner’s shoulder.

“Coach!” Porco has a set of lungs on him, and their coach glances up from down the field. “Braun hurt his leg! I’m taking him to the locker room!”

The coach waves them away, and Reiner frowns as Porco starts hustling him towards the locker room, dragging him along by the wrist. “Pok, my leg is fi…”

“Shut up!” Porco shoots daggers over his shoulder, and Reiner shuts his mouth. “And for fuck’s sake, stop calling me Pok! You sound like my grandma!”

The locker room is quiet, resplendent in the constant reek of sweaty socks and shoulder pads that never get washed out all the way, and Reiner is baffled as Porco pulls him past the lockers. “They’re going to need us on the field…”

“They’re going to lose whether we’re there or not.” 

A fair point, and Reiner keeps his mouth shut, letting Porco lead him. He has to admit, he’s curious now, and when Porco shoulders open the door leading to the equipment closet, a faint curl of excitement starts to pool in Reiner’s stomach.

It’s probably nothing; he’s probably about to get bitched out and nothing more. But he can’t help imagining that Porco might have other plans for this little excursion, and a man can dream.

Porco shoves Reiner ahead of him, into the closet, and then kicks the door closed behind them. They’re left in darkness, surrounded by the looming shadows of tackle dummies and boxes of old uniforms and deflated balls, and Reiner is about to ask what’s going on when he feels Porco’s hands on either side of his chest. They curl in his sweat-damp jersey, getting a good, solid grip, and then Porco yanks, jerking Reiner’s head down, and Reiner has time to suck in a quick, surprised breath before Porco’s lips are mashed up against his own, sealing away his air.

_Oh_. Reiner slouches his shoulders forward, his arms immediately going to circle around Porco’s waist and draw him close. Porco’s kisses are still sloppy, unpracticed and unrefined, too rough and aggressive, but he’s getting better. Porco has taken to kissing with the same intensity he devotes to football: focusing all his energy into the task at hand, pouring himself into it, giving it his full and undivided attention. Reiner is still trying to convince him that he can be a little bit softer, that it’s not “too gay” to be gentle sometimes, but Porco is taking some convincing.

Their shoulder pads bump together, keeping them from getting too close, and Porco makes a disgruntled little sound in the back of his throat. He pushes his fists out, against Reiner’s chest, and Reiner steps backwards until his calves bump into a bench. He goes down then, giving Porco the upper hand he knows he wants, and Porco immediately straddles his lap, settling in on Reiner’s thighs and getting his hands in Reiner’s hair to pull his head back. Reiner gasps as Porco yanks on his hair, exposing his neck, and Porco goes for Reiner’s throat, leaving wet, biting kisses up and down Reiner’s skin.

“Ev… everyone’s going to see that… when we go back out.” Reiner knows Porco is bruising him, that his skin is blooming purple under Porco’s ministrations, but he makes no move to shove Porco off his lap. Instead, he keeps his arms around him and lets his hands fall to Porco’s ass, round and perfect and taut under his uniform pants.

“Don’t care.” Porco sucks a mark under the curve of Reiner’s jawline before lifting his head, and by now Reiner’s eyes have adjusted to the thin strip of light coming in from under the door, and he can see the bright flash of Porco’s teeth in the gloom as he smiles. “Doesn’t bother me when it’s on _you_.”

“No?” Porco’s hands have gone for the laces of Reiner’s pants, fumbling with them, and Reiner is finding it hard to think straight. “What… ah… what’s the difference?”

“Difference is I _like_ it when people think you’re _my_ bitch.”

There’s a lot to unpack there, a lot of internalized homophobia that hurts Reiner’s heart, but Porco has gotten his pants unlaced, and Reiner’s dick is completely undeterred by the need to have a long, difficult conversation with his younger partner. No, Reiner’s dick is all about the here and now, straining against his cup, pushing it forward, his jock strap cutting into the back of his thighs.

Porco ducks in for another kiss, and this one is almost sweet, a tantalizing glimpse of the gentle, kind person Reiner is sure is lurking under the brusque, aggressive exterior, and he moves to wrap his arms around Porco and just hold him for a few moments. He’s too slow; Porco clambers off Reiner’s lap and dances backwards, out of reach. “Take your pants off and bend over the bench.”

Reiner sighs; for someone so new to the gay scene, Porco is certainly eager to embrace a daddy persona. Still, he slips down onto the floor, turning to face the bench and sliding his pants down. He can’t take them off, not with his leg pads still on, but he can expose his ass and wiggle them down far enough to part his legs. “You have any lube?”

Porco is moving around behind Reiner, crashing into things and cursing softly under his breath. Then he finds what he’s looking for and comes back, kneeling behind Reiner, his hands going to Reiner’s hips, and Reiner can feel the small bottle pressed against Porco’s palm.

He has to smile. “You hid that in here earlier?”

“Yeah.” Porco sounds immensely pleased with himself, and even in the gloom, Reiner can picture his radiant smile.

“So you were planning this.” Now Reiner is starting to wonder if all the fuss over that blown kiss was just to get him down here.

“Well, not _this_, exactly, but…” Porco gets distracted, his hand sliding over Reiner’s hip, across his thigh, and then cupping one of his ass cheeks. 

“But?” Reiner gently prompts, tilting his hips back and arching his back so Porco can get a better handful of his rear.

“But your ass looks so fucking _good_ in your football pants!” Porco blurts it out all at once, like it’s somehow a shameful thing to admit, but that doesn’t stop him from dropping the lube on the floor to get a grip on Reiner with both hands.

Reiner laughs softly and reaches behind him, patting on the floor until he finds the lube bottle. He snags it up and holds it back to Porco. “Thanks. I’m glad you approve.”

“I approve _so hard_!” Porco is more enthusiastic, now that he knows he isn’t going to be rejected—like Reiner would go as far as taking his pants down for him and then say no—and sets the lube on the small of Reiner’s back as he fumbles with the laces of his own pants. “You know how hard it is to go out for first down when you’ve got half a stock in your pants?”

Reiner can’t help it; he puts his head down in his arms and cracks up.

Behind him, Porco sighs as he finally gets himself free, and then there’s his cock, rubbing up between Reiner’s ass cheeks, hot and turgid and already slightly wet with pre-come. This isn’t going to take long, Reiner realizes, but that’s fine with him; he’s straining uncomfortably against his cup already, and the longer they’re down here, the higher the odds that someone will realize they’ve gone missing.

“And then every time you bend over and crouch, and I can see your thighs, and your arms, and your _ass_? Shit, I can barely think!” Porco leans back, and Reiner hears the distinctive sound of the lube bottle opening, and then the wet slapping of Porco applying it. Moments later, and Porco’s fingers are on Reiner’s hole, smearing lube on it, his fingertips light and gentle.

“Porco.” Reiner twists around as best he can in his uniform pads, and reaches an arm back. He manages to find Porco’s jersey front, more by luck than skill, and gets a grip on it, pulling Porco down close to his face.

“Yeah?”

“Are you going to fuck me or are you going to talk about it?” Only two years separate them, but sometimes it feels like a lot more.

Porco is shocked into silence, and Reiner pulls him closer. Their pads bump against each other, and Reiner has to strain his neck forward, but he finds Porco’s lips in the dark, and kisses them. Porco is only shocked for a moment longer, and then he’s kissing back, desperate and needy and eager, and as much as he’d like to, Reiner knows he shouldn’t delay this any longer.

He lets go of Porco’s jersey and turns to brace against the bench, and Porco straightens up, one hand on Reiner’s hip and the other guiding himself as the head of his cock bumps against Reiner’s slick hole.

“Tell me if I’m hurting you, okay?”

“Okay.”

Permission granted, Reiner takes a deep breath as Porco teases him for a second longer, and then lets it out as Porco pushes in.

Reiner would normally want more foreplay, something he knows he could easily talk Porco into in a more private setting, but there’s pleasure to be had in a little pain too, and in the knowledge that they could get caught. Porco is quiet behind him, just the sound of his breathing and the wet slap of their bodies together; above them, the crowd roars, clearly pleased by something happening on the field, and Reiner moans in chorus with them as Porco hits all the right spots deep inside him.

Porco leans forward over Reiner’s back, burying his face between Reiner’s shoulder blades, and Reiner can feel his jersey tug and pull taut across his chest. He knows Porco is biting it, the way he’d be biting at the back of Reiner’s shoulders or neck if he could reach them, and that just spirals him closer to the edge, closer to losing control.

Porco wedges his hand between Reiner’s hip and the bench, and Reiner lifts his head, making a questioning sound in the back of his throat. That can’t be comfortable, not with their combined weight leaning on it, and Reiner almost asks what he’s doing. But then Porco gets ahold of Reiner’s cup and pulls it out, letting Reiner bulge into his jockstrap, and Reiner gets it. He moans again as Porco wraps his fingers around him and starts jerking him off, the motion unpracticed and chaotic, but enthused.

Above them, the crowd roars.

It only takes a few jerks, and Reiner is coming into Porco’s hand, bending low over the bench as everything draws to a tight little ball of light inside him and then explodes. A few seconds later, and Porco is shuddering against his back, his moans muffled in Reiner’s pads, and Reiner can feel the sudden wet heat filling him.

They stay together for a few minutes, their hearts slowing back to a normal rhythm, Porco’s breathing quieting along with Reiner’s. Then Porco sits up and leans back, pulling out with a damp hiss, and Reiner can feel lube and come drip down the inside of his thighs.

Oh, well. It’s not like his uniform didn’t need to get washed after a game anyway.

They dress in silence, pulling their pants back up, lacing the fronts closed on their own. Porco wipes his hand on an old towel and throws it in the corner, never to be seen again, and then offers Reiner his cup from where it fell on the floor. Reiner dusts it off and works it back into his jock, wincing as it slides against still-sensitive flesh.

When they’re both fully dressed again, they step out into the locker room together. They’re still alone, miracle of miracles, and they give each other a once-over to make sure they look okay. Porco’s hair is a mess, and Reiner smoothes it back, allowing himself a moment to cradle the back of Porco’s head in his palm.

Then they’re ready, and they head back out to the field, Porco leading the way.

Something is happening out there, something big based on the noise, and Reiner is curious enough about what it is to not realize Porco has stopped walking until he crashes into him.

“Porco?”

Porco’s shoulders are tense, drawn up towards his ears, and when he turns around, he has his jaw set so hard Reiner can practically hear his teeth ache. “I’m not embarrassed by you.”

Reiner blinks. “Okay.”

Porco shakes his head. “I’m not! And… and I don’t…” He gets quiet, looking at the ground. “I don’t think you’re my bitch.”

Oh, Porco… Reiner can’t help it; he can feel a sudden, unexpected surge of pure affection for him. It could even be love, given enough time and space to grow. Porco, Porco, Porco…

“Hey.” Reiner reaches out and catches Porco’s chin. “Hey, I never thought you were.”

Porco lifts his eyes to meet Reiner’s, and maybe there’s more self-acceptance there than there was earlier tonight. Maybe Porco is a little bit closer to accepting who and what he is than he’d been before, and maybe there’s more peace in his eyes than Reiner has seen before. “You can blow me kisses if you want.”

Reiner smiles. “Can I _give_ you kisses?”

Porco scoffs quiet laughter. “Don’t push your luck.”

They walk back to the field, and miracle of miracles, their team is winning, the crowd is going insane, and they don’t _ooooh_ at all over the way Porco is holding Reiner’s hand right in front of them.


End file.
